In which I fall in love with my brother's best friend.
*****
"Don't pretend like you don't feel anything." His voice is low, sending shivers down my spine.
"What do you mean?"
"You know damn well what I mean."
"I don't know what you're talking about...
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"You should wear this," Stacey tells me as she pulls out a dress from my closet.
About 15 minutes ago, she arrived at my house, and I was surprised to find myself totally underdressed.
She wears an elegant midnight blue dress, while I'm only dressed up in black jeans, blouse and blazer. I thought that a concert for the college orchestra would be nothing fancy, but it turns out that they invited some special guests tonight, so the event is much more formal than I thought.
I ponder on the outfit Stacey just chose for me. The black dress is lovely. It's knee-length, exposes my shoulder and accentuates my curve. More importantly, it speaks high class. But isn't it too much? It's not like I'm going to watch a philharmonic orchestra in Vienna's most phenomenal concert hall.
I raise my brow at her. "Don't you think it's too much?"
"Come on," she growls. "Trust me. You'll look fabulous."
I roll my eyes and decide to trust her. Once I get dressed, I look at my reflection in the full-body length mirror, and I'm quite satisfied with the result.
"Wow." Stacey whistles. "Look at you. I'll have to keep an eye for you in case many hungry men try to hit on you tonight." She smirks. "Before somebody gets mad."
Her last sentence makes me wonder whether she's talking about my brother or Vaughn. But remembering that she once saw Jake being overprotective to me, I think that she's talking about my brother. Judging by how Vaughn treated me earlier today, I'm sure that he won't give a damn about me anyway.
I must say that I like this dress too. It makes me feel confident. I've never worn it before -- Mom bought it for me. Now, it looks perfect. I wonder whether I should pull my hair up to accentuate my bare shoulder, but bringing it down suits the look too. I've blow-dried it into wavy locks, and it looks nice.
"Wait. You forgot something." Stacey scans the make-ups lying on my dresser and snatches a red lipgloss.
"What are you doing?" I protest, but she silences me, putting a layer of glossy red on my upper lip.
"Shut up, bombshell," she says, making me almost laugh, but I can't unless I want to ruin the lips.
"Now, there you go," she states proudly, turning my shoulder to face the mirror. "Damn. I'm a straight girl, but I want to kiss you."
I laugh at her joke, smacking her arm, while she just giggles.
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